


Death, Be Not Proud

by vipjuly



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Growing Up Together, M/M, Minor Violence, No Character Death, POV First Person, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:27:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22056289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vipjuly/pseuds/vipjuly
Summary: For a chance at a better life, Dean must shoot his lover.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 20
Kudos: 95





	Death, Be Not Proud

**Author's Note:**

> This was a dream I had. I normally hate first person POV but in this dream I _was_ Dean and it was... trippy.  
> This piece is short.  
> Kinda Hunger Games-ish.

Gun in my hand, sun sweltering the skin on the back of my neck, I am Dean Winchester, and I have to shoot Castiel Novak. 

Desert floor under my feet, I can hear chaos all around the arena. It's not closed in - more like a shoddy, fenced perimeter that the contestants know better than to cross out of. I'm taking shelter against a metal column, eight feet tall with a wider, circular plank on top. A platform of some kind. While I'm taking shelter under it, Cas is 10 feet away from me standing on top of another just like it. From where I am he can't see me but he's eyeing the area from his vantage point, and I know the second I even twitch wrong he'll make me. 

But I gotta win. I gotta do this. My jeans are dusty, stiff from dried sweat, and the army green tee stretched thinly across my shoulders is continuously soaked through every time I find shade. It's fucking hot, and I just want the game to be over. I can almost taste the victory dinner, feel the champion's bubble bath - but first, I need to take out Cas.

It's a split second decision, and a fucking stupid one. I dart out from under my shelter and Cas immediately notices me, but he doesn't pop off a shot, his own gun trained on me without firing. I make it to the safety underneath the column he's standing on, heart pounding, thoughts racing. Why didn't he shoot me? Granted, I didn't shoot him either, but now we're at a stand still.

I flex my fingers on my gun, readjusting my sweaty grip. I let my breath settle. Count backwards from ten, like I know Cas is doing, too. It's now or never. Maybe you couldn't call me smart, but I sure as hell know what I ain't: a coward.

I lurch my weight forward, out from the safety of the platform. Twisting around and bracing myself on my back foot I raise my gun towards Cas, who is raising his, and our eyes lock for a split second. 

Our whole life flashes through my mind.

Meeting on the grimy, disease-ridden streets, dirty but freshly vaccinated from the clinic. He tells me with grim determination that our parents and siblings are dead, but it's ok-- we have each other. We hold hands. I feel safe for the first time in my nine years of living. 

Thirteen years old, Cas is tending to a cut on my forehead. My ten year old eyes are stubbornly refusing to cry.

"You're not a superhero," sixteen year old Cas says. "Girls aren't impressed by boys who can't take care of themselves."

I shove him lightly, and the thought of _What would it take to impress you?_ crosses my mind fleetingly. 

At eighteen and twenty-one, Cas gets news he's been accepted to university.

I already know I'm meant for the working class, hard labor the kind of mindless work I've resigned myself to. I'm not smart. Not like Cas. But when I read my own acceptance letter he looks at me with pride, and I think, _Are you impressed?_

When Cas is twenty-six he breaks a leg. I tend to him for two months, running myself ragged between my part time job at the factory, school, and making sure Cas is alright. He thanks me by carding his fingers through my hair and pressing a tender kiss to my forehead. 

Two weeks ago, at thirty-three and thirty, a letter was sent to me, offering me and one loved one redemption from poverty. 

Win the contest, and be free.

One minute ago, I knew I had to shoot Cas.

Five seconds ago, Cas came to the same conclusion. 

I shoot first. The sound is deafening in my right ear; it's been virtually silent for six hours. I haven't heard gunfire or voices or even the sounds of nature since the other contestants took each other out. The bang ricochets through my skull. The bullet flies past Cas's head, nearly grazing his ear, startling him. His grip falters, and when I squeeze the trigger again, so does he. 

I hit him in the thigh. 

Pain explodes somewhere near my knee, but it feels like my entire leg got blown off. Cas falls off of the pillar, hitting the dirt and barely able to brace himself. There's a crunch and a wheeze. He lands two feet away from where I'm laid out and our heads turn towards each other, hands automatically reaching. 

There's cheering from somewhere.

Our fingers lace.

" **DISQUALIFIED.** " A disembodied voice booms.

I close my eyes, tears springing. This competition was a bust. No way we coulda won. Not with such high stakes. Now we're both gonna die, because we couldn't kill each other.

" **WINNER: WINCHESTER. WINNER: NOVAK.** "

My eyes snap open. Cas's eyes are wide with disbelief.

In a contest designed to pit partners against each other, a ploy for the rich to get the poor to scrap for even a sliver of wealth, I... won? There were half a dozen other couples. The voice must have been for the other couple I caught sight of fifteen minutes ago.

Cas's chest heaves, then collapses with a sob. His mouth spreads in a stunning smile, his fingers grasping tightly at mine, and the cheering gets louder. Tears streak through the blood and grime on his cheeks. Shakily, I make my way over to him. He turns towards me and we drag ourselves across the gritty, dirty ground to get to each other. I fling myself over him and he coughs, lungs rattling from exertion. 

I can finally give Cas everything he needs.

I must say that out loud, because Cas wraps his arms around me and says, "You idiot. All I've ever needed was you."

**Author's Note:**

> Wishing you all happiness and peace in the New Year. 🖤  
> Are you ready for 2020?  
> I've got some things up my sleeve...  
> 💋, Jillian


End file.
